A Wounded Hero
by fanofdenial
Summary: How Draco really felt about Hermione getting petrified in second year. Dramione, of sorts.


**They say that Draco snuck the paper that Hermione had with her when she was found stupified in** _ **The Chamber of Secrets.**_ **In the movie, you can even see Draco ripping a page out of a book in Flourish and Blotts when he runs into the Weasleys, Harry, and Hermione. Inspired by these facts, I whipped this little one shot up.**

 **Creds to JK Rowling !**

"HA! Justice at last!" Marcus Flint called out to the Slytherin common room at large, gasping slightly from the long trek he had just run from the entrance hall to the common room situated far into the depths of the castle, where it was both darkest and dingiest. "Not only has another mudblood been attacked, but as luck would have it, it's that blasted bookworm Granger!"

Flint's proclamation was accompanied by a series of shouts and cheers of approval, which outwardly Draco supported. Had he not lead the jeers saying that he hoped that Granger would be next, that this time when she was attacked, it would be permanent, not merely stupification? He had had to, after all. He was Draco Malfoy, the top of the Pureblood heap, and she was a mudblood, the lowest of the low, and the boy-who-wouldn't-die's best friend to boot.

So why was it concern, not glee, that was causing knots to form in the pit of his stomach? Why was it that his apparent delight at the news felt more and more like an act, a great burden?

Draco realised that it wasn't only the other Slytherins whom he was deceiving with his faked delight. He recalled the first time that he had met Hermione. It had been on the Hogwarts Express, and he had been so nervous to be leaving his doting mother for school with only Crabbe and Goyle as familiar faces. She had been so self-assured as she went from carriage to carriage looking for that idiot Longbottom's toad. To an eleven year old boy, her bushy hair and warm brown eyes had seemed adorable, and Draco had felt his cheeks redden when she had entered the carriage. He had vowed to get to know her once they reached school. Unfortunately, when they had arrived, he had learned the truth-she was sorted into Gryffindor, and to make matters worse, was a muggleborn. Draco knew that a friendship with her would never work; that it would in fact be forbidden. However, he couldn't make his feelings subside. In fact, they only grew stronger as he observed her unwavering loyalty, keen intellect, and incredible bravery. Terrified that someone would discover his secret and that he would be subject to his father's wrath and would be responsible for shame upon the Malfoy name, he had compensated by making Hermione the brunt of many of his taunts and much of his cruel behaviour. He wished that she could know that he felt the pain he was subjecting her to just as much as she did.

Over the summer of first year, he had overheard his father telling his mother of a plan that his father had formulated to unleash the monster of the Chamber of Secrets on the school once more. As he listened to his father's delight at the notion of several attacks on muggleborns, all that he could think about was Hermione and her safety. One night, he snuck into his father's study and ripped a page from the book that lay on his desk. Between taunts, he slipped the page into Hermione's cauldron when he ran into the golden trio and the other Weasleys in Diagon Alley just before the start of the new term.

The school year proved to be a tense one for everyone, but Draco found it particularly trying as he kept his fingers crossed that Hermione would stay out of harm's way while all the while acting as though he wanted nothing more than for her to be killed. He pretended to be delighted in the attacks that were happening, and for extra precaution, boasted that he himself might be the heir of Slytherin. Yet it seemed that she hadn't been able to stay safe. Now all that he could do was hope that she had found and understood his clue.

When it seemed safe enough to do so without raising suspicion, Draco left the raucous common room under guise of having a terrible stomach ache. Arriving at the hospital wing, he fed his lie to Madame Pomfrey who bustled off to her store room to get him a tonic. Quickly, Draco slipped behind the newly erected curtain and sucked in a breath when he caught sight of her frozen form, face suspended in a look of horror. It was then that he saw the compact mirror on the table beside her, and warmth flooded his stomach. She had understood! He had saved her! He could now only hope that one day, there would come a time when he would be able to tell her so. That one day, a love of the kind that he felt would not be forbidden, but welcomed. That a muggleborn and a Pureblood could coexist as friends, not enemies. That one day, he, Pureblood, Slytherin, haunted, Draco Malfoy, could compete for the affection of this incredible Gryffindor, muggleborn, bookwormish, Hermione Granger.


End file.
